Page 8 of More Tricks

Running my hands through my hair, I got to my feet, and prepared to deal with whatever was still going on with the FBI. When I went back out to the kitchen, there was no one there. The plates were left on the counters where they were eating, so I assumed they’d be coming back. I heard voices on the porch, so I opened the front door to find them all at the foot of the stairs pointing out an area on a map for the agents.

“We’ll have a team head out there with flood lights now and start tagging bodies. I don’t want to leave them for the animals or the heat of the day to start them rotting,” Agent Egger said, her face scrunched in disgust.

Cognac used a red marker to draw around an area. “The land mines are here, here, and over here. They knew just where to hit us because it’s not a large gap, but we needed a space to be able to evacuate if other options were cut off. Just take care of the bodies and let us move everything else. A bunch of them ended up in the minefield.”

“Are all you people out of your mind?” another agent asked. “Why would you even need to have a minefield in the first place?”

I snorted. “Really, that is a stupid question since you’re cleaning up the attack we’d been prepared for. Being on the defensive means careful planning to ensure when shit goes down, you're not caught unaware. Or did they not teach you that sort of thing at Quantico?”

“Little demon, you can come out here if you’re going to play nice. If not, go back inside,” Void warned, giving me a look that told me he wasn’t playing around.

Remembering Eagle’s advice, I sighed and went back into the house to let the others deal with things. If they felt it was best for me to stay out of the situation, then I’d just find some other way to occupy myself.

“Honey child, what’s got you all glum?” Dante asked, coming down the stairs and adjusting his teal-colored suit.

Gone was the makeup and prosthetics to hide his features. I noticed he’d let his perfectly styled hair go pure silver with some sprinklings of his once all-black hair like his son. Cam got his lighter golden eyes from his mother while Dante had rich, dark chocolate-colored eyes that didn’t miss a detail. The man was a silver fox for sure, and it was no wonder he could sweet talk his way in or out of any situation. He had long legs, fine-fingered hands, and looked after himself more than most women did.

“You do know it’s like eight o’clock in the evening after a battle for our lives, right? I doubt there will be any soiree for you to attend,” I pointed out, a smile tugging at my lips.

Dante clicked his tongue at me. “Just because you’re in a bad mood doesn’t mean you get to be nasty.” He glided over to the couch and patted the seat next to him. “Now come sit down with me and tell me what in the blue blazes is going on. Why are the FBI here so late?”

“That would be because your son called them, explained what happened, and they felt the need to take over since they dealt with the first part of this ridiculous day,” I answered, flopping down on the couch.

“Hmm, that does sound like him,” Dante agreed. “That doesn’t explain why you look as thrilled as a wet hen in a rainstorm.”

Oh God, I almost forgot how dramatic Dante could be and how hard it was to keep a straight face.

“Eagle, one of my men and leader of the Phantom Saints, is back in a Vegas hospital. The guys are grumpy at me, and we jumped over one hurdle only to find out a bigger one is coming before we can even see the finish line,” I griped. “Do you have any idea how much harder it is to take down Diego De León and his cartel? They don’t rule the East Coast by being idiots.”

“My sweet child, you are looking at this all wrong,” Dante scolded, patting my knee. “What do they say about eating the elephant?”

“Why would I be eating an elephant?” I countered, not following this man's crazy tangent.

He gave me a look that told me I was being a brat and continued, “If you want to eat an elephant, you do it one bite at a time. First things first, we need to get all your delicious eye candy back under one roof, then we can start to figure out how to deal with the De León issue.”

“I think I need another beer.” I sighed, shoving to my feet. “Do you want anything?”

“Don’t happen to have a nip of brandy about, would you?” Dante asked, craning his head to watch me in the kitchen.

Feeling that sounded better than a beer, I opened the cabinet they kept all the liquor in and took a gander. “Looks like we’re in luck,” I answered, grabbing a bottle off the shelf.

“Hey now, spitfire, you’re not planning on drinking all of that yourself, are you?” Picasso asked as he spotted what I was holding.

Rolling my eyes, I set it down, grabbed two short glasses, and turned to Dante. “You want it neat or on the rocks?”

“On the rocks,” he called in answer, then spotted his favorite person to torture walk in the door. “Oh, Westin, come sit. We have so much to catch up on, now don’t we?”

I’d warned Wes a long time ago that I wasn’t going to rescue him from Dante because the sly fox would know what I was doing and ignore any effort. Instead, I left him to fight on his own, but secretly I think Wes liked the teasing game the two of them had going on.

“Dante,” Wes nodded in greeting. “Did you get dinner?”

“Child,” Dante drawled, stretching out the single word. “You know I don’t eat carbs like that. How else would I be able to fit into these suits I get custom made? No, I'll simply drink my calories and be quite satisfied.” he shared as he accepted the glass I handed him. “Tell me one thing, who made the move first?”

His knowing eyes moved back and forth between us as Wes pulled me to sit on his lap. I grinned and took a sip of my drink, aware Dante wanted to hear all the salacious details from Wes.

“That would be me,” Wes said proudly. “After I thought I lost her at that party when the Saints took her, I knew the moment I got her back, I would tell her everything.”

“I take it you were well received then?” Dante inquired.